The Hellraisers
by Jawf94
Summary: Bloody Red Rose is the notoriously violent and unstable enforcer of the Hellraisers, one of most ruthless mercenary groups in the Mojave Wasteland.Her leader Hector does his best to keep her in check, but when a job goes wrong a standard contract turns into a personal vendetta run, and all Hell breaks loose in the process.
1. Bloody Red

_I've done a lot of terrible things in my life, but I regret none of them. I do what I have to do to survive, everything else comes second. _

_A man once asked me, "How do you sleep at night, knowing you've done the things you've done?"_

_I looked at him, and answered simply "Because I know there are only two types of people in this world now, those who get pushed around, and those that have the strength to take what they want."_

_And then I blew his fucking head off._

Chapter One:

It's a blazing hot day in the small town of Goodsprings. Chet's general store is quiet as it usually is, there being only one other person in the store besides Chet himself. She is a younger, slender woman in a clean pre-war springtime dress. Despite the dress, her hair is messy and unkempt, and hangs down to her lower neck and a few strands hang about her face. She has a fierce look in her emerald colored eyes as she argues with the money grubbing merchant about his outrageous prices. Her skin is quite pale, and a few freckles are scattered around her otherwise blemish free face. A sawed off shotgun is clearly displayed at her side, along with a machete strapped to her back.

"Hey listen if you don't like my prices you can buy your supplies someplace else," Chet tells her off, crossing his arms.

"You know damn well there is nowhere else in town!" she protests, glaring at him intensely.

"Well then I guess you don't have much of a choice but to pay my prices than do you?" As the two battle it out, two individuals enter from the door behind, wearing long coats.

"Fuck you, I'd rather take my chances and head to Primm, than spend a fortune on your sub-par selection!"

"Well then I suggest you do that," Chet turns his attention from the hot tempered woman to the new figures in his shop, who were approaching fast. "Can I help you folks?"  
The man grabs the woman who has her back turned to him by the shoulder, pushes her out of the way against the wall, raises .357 from his jacket and shoves in Chet's face. "Give me everything you have or I will blow your fucking head off where you stand, and don't think I won't!"

The woman scowls at her attacker and reaches for her gun, but the second man points a caravan shotgun at her chest, "Get your fucking hands in the air."

The woman glares at the man intensely, but knows he won't hesitate to blow her away. She raises her hands, not taking her eyes off him. He looked ragged and desperate, but she knew well enough that the desperate men could always be the most dangerous. Reaching for her gun would just get her shot.

"Alright, alright I don't want any trouble!" Chet panicks, his hands raised high above his head.

"Just give me your fucking caps and maybe I won't blow your goddamned head off!"

"Okay, okay!" Chet scampers to the cash register, pushes a button to get it open, and starts gathering all the caps.

The sweating Chet is shaking and keeps on dropping the caps, and the robber becomes impatient. "Come on!" He yells violently, putting the gun to Chet's head.

"Oh god, oh god please!" Chet begs, it looked like he was having a panic attack.

"Just shut the fuck up and-!" suddenly the robber's .357 went off, blasting Chet's skull apart and splattering blood and gore across the back wall. Chet slumped to the ground with a violent thud, a good portion of his skull missing.

The second robber whipped around, to see his friend just standing there in silence with his mouth agape, his entire body and face soaked through with Chet's blood. "Holy shit man, what the fuck did you do?!" yelled his partner, totally distraught.

"I-I don't know the gun just went off!" he claimed, now it was his turn to panic.

"You just fucking killed that guy!"

"Fuck you man I didn't mean to!" the first robber defended himself, "The fucking gun just went off I don't know why!"

Suddenly a chuckle came from the woman, a small but apparent grin painted across her face as she shook her head, her face also being splattered with blood. Both the robbers turned to her, confused. "What the fuck is so funny?!" The one who had just shot Chet asked frantically, now pointing his gun at her.

"You just painted the room with that guy's brains..." she claims, giggling as she speaks. "Oh my god you guys are so fucked," she now breaks out into all out laughter.

The two men are completely thrown off by her reaction. "You're a fucking psychopath."

"Being a called a psycho by someone who just killed a man in cold blood. Now that's what you call ironic."

The robber squinted frustratingly, and quickly advanced upon the woman, putting his revolver to her head. "Shut the fuck up before I-."

Suddenly a loud knock comes at the door. "Red? Red?! Are you alright in there?"

Before the two could react, the woman spoke up "Oh I'm just fine Hector! Just having a friendly conversation with my two new friends here," she chirps, her attitude now completely changed. She eyes the man with his gun to her head, a wide grin smeared across her blood ridden face. She lowers her arms suddenly and walks over to observe the dead Chet.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing! You move again and I'll blow your fucking brains out!" The robber persists, now shifting the gun to the back of her skull.

The woman called Red turns around and leans casually against the blood soaked counter, not caring the two are still pointing their guns at her. "There are four heavily armed people out there, and they've probably already surrounded the building. You shoot me, and you'll experience a death more painful than anything you've ever imagined. They'll cut you up into little tiny bits and feed you to the geckos."

The two men look at each other in uncertainty, and then back to her. "Who the hell are you?" the one with the shotgun asked, shaking.

"That's not really important right now, what is important is that my friends are about to break the fucking door down and put you in the ground, unless you drop your fucking weapons now," Red said sternly.

"Rose! We're coming in!" Came the voice outside again.

"Not quite yet!" Red yelled back.

"Wait, Rose?" the man with the revolver repeats, seemingly remembering something. "As in Bloody Red Rose from the Hellraisers?"

"So you have heard of me," Red smiles, glad to know she's known.

"Oh Jesus of all the fucking people…" The robber with the shotgun realizes, sweating.

"If you know of me, then you obviously know of them. And you know what they'll do to you if you attack them. Your only chance is to surrender."

For a long moment neither one does anything, then the one with the shotgun lowers his weapon, sweating profusely. The man with the revolver bites his lip, and darts his head from behind and back at Red, unsure what to do.

"Well, what's it going to be?" Red pesters him.

"Come on man, do what she says," the second robber urges his friend.

"Shut up! I'm thinking!"

"It's not a hard decision," Red points out, crossing her arms. She makes eye contact with the panicking robber, "Just give me your gun, and I swear neither me nor my friends will harm you."

The man breathes heavily, "Alright, alright." He says, finally agreeing. He flips the gun in his hands so the handle is sticking out towards Red.

Red slowly takes hold of the gun's handle, and the robber lowers his hand.

"Finally," Red then turns the gun on the robber wielding the shotgun and puts a bullet through his teeth. His head cracks back and he falls against the shelf he was standing in front of. The first robber looks on in horror as his friend topples off the side of the shelf and smashes face first into the hardwood floor.

The remaining robber is now speechless for the second time, he looks back to Red, who's holding his own smoking revolver that just ended his friend's life. "What the fuck?! You said you wouldn't kill us!" He screams frantically.

"Actually no, what I said was I wouldn't kill you," Red corrects him, smiling.

"You fuckin' bitch!"

"Now, now," she shifts the gun to him now, cocking it so it is once again ready to fire. "I have been known to change my mind." The robber gulps, shutting up, and Red turns her head to the door. "Alright, you can come in now," she tells her friends.

A moment later the door slams open, and in the doorway stands a tall figure, silhouetted like a shadow by the beating sun just outside. He steps into clear vision, revealing he is wearing a bright white two piece suit and tie, along with a matching gambler's hat of the same color. His skin was dark and tan, obviously of Mediterranean descent. Red looked out of place in her springtime dress, but this man looks he just walked out the Ultra Luxe Casino. Long black hair hung out the sides of his hat, and his dark brown eyes darted from place to place as he observed the scene. He is not visibly armed, but it's more than likely he had some kind of weapon on him.

"Well Christ Red, what have you done now?" the man asks, looking at the dead robber on the floor, his eyes then going to the large spot of blood behind the counter where Chet was murdered.

"Now don't go blaming this on me Hector, they started it," Red protested, her eyes still on the robber.

Suddenly a woman rushes in, this one a face neither Red nor Hector recognized. A young redhead with her hair tied back, wearing light leather armor and armed nothing more than a varmint rifle. "What the hell is going on in here?"

They both looked to her in question, "And who might you be?" Hector asks, his hands locked behind his back.

"I should be asking you that, I happen to live here. Name's Sunny, now what is going on in here?"

"These two jokers tried to rob the store and things got fucked up quick," Red answered quickly.

"What? Where's the shopowner?" Sunny asked, concerned.

"You see these walls?" Red asks her, causing Sunny to look around the bloodstained room. "That ain't red paint."

"Oh… god," Sunny stammers, taking a step back. "What the hell did you do?" she demands.

"I didn't do anything, it was this asshole who shot the clerk."

"Oh god please," the robber breaks down, sobbing "Please don't kill me, I'll do fucking anything man!"

As he's bawling, Hector sighs, reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a .45 handgun. He aims at the crying man with one hand and fires one round directly into the back of his skull. Blood spurts like a fountain from the robber's head as he falls to the floor, dead upon the bullet's impact. Red just chuckles and tosses the gun onto his corpse, "Here, you can have that back."

Upon instinct, Sunny reaches behind her back and grabs the butt of her gun. Red doesn't take the chance and whips out her sawed off from her side in the blink of an eye. Sunny is just getting her rifle firmly in grip when Red blows off both barrels at once. The blast is deafening, and the pellets cut through Sunny's armor like butter. She's soars out the door and crashes to the wasteland ground like a downed bird, rolling several times before finally coming to a stop, her body sprawled out in the middle of town.

Shouts of panic and yelling can now be heard outside as all hell breaks loose. A figure in a long coat comes to the doorway, "What the hell was that?!"  
"Stupid local went for her gun," Red answered, reloading her shotgun.

"The entire town is gonna be after us now! We need to get the fuck outta Dodge!" He yelled, running away from the door.

"He's right, we should make ourselves scarce," Hector informs Red, walking towards the open door.

"What about the supplies?" Red asks after him.

"There's no time, we'll have to stop at Primm," Hector answers as he disappears through the door.

Red looks around at the bloodbath before her. "Well, at least we live up to our name," Red sighs as she follows after Hector.


	2. The White Knight of New Vegas

Chapter Two: The White Knight of New Vegas

A few weeks later…

Red never did like the sun due to her pale complexion, but lately it seemed like she was seeing a lot of it. She sits behind a large rock in the middle of the harsh wasteland in an attempt to get some shade from the harsh sun. Her companions were around, but Red had gone off on her own for a bit as she often does to get away from everyone. In addition to her sawed off shotgun at her side, she now has a .45 Auto SMG strapped to her back to make up for the shotgun's lack of range. No civilization was in sight from where she is, just rocks, dirt, an occasional radscorpion or two, and more rocks. They were too far up North to be on Great Khan territory, and the fiends rarely came this far South, so it was just a sort of no man's land that no one with half a brain would go anywhere near because it's a lot easier to take the roads anyway. So why were they here?

The Hellraisers had been called out on a job to escort someone from New Vegas across the Wasteland. Red expressed her dislike for the job, and the man himself, but even she had to admit the money was too good to pass up for such a piece of cake job. They were supposed to be waiting here for the guy but he's late, and Red got bored waiting. She figured her friends would just come find her once the employer finally decided to show up.

She sits with one knee up with her eyes closed, when a figure approaches from her left.

"Hey, Red, wake up." Red doesn't move from her position. "Red come on-"

"I'm not asleep Charlie, you asshole," Red barks, cracking open one eye. Charlie is a tall man, standing well above Red's standing height. He wears an open brown duster that reaches all the way down to his lower legs, and wears a gray wide brimmed hat from his Ranger days back before he left the NCR, along with a pair of intimidating shades that sparkle as they reflect against the sun. Most of his blond hair is covered up by his ranger hat, and a rough, trimmed beard covers his lower face with a long, crooked scar running down his cheek. A trail carbine is clearly displayed strapped to his back, as well as a .44 magnum at his side, he practically screams ex-ranger. He never did tell any of the crew why he left. Red didn't ask, mostly because she didn't really give a shit.

"Then there's no reason you shouldn't have answered in the first place. So get the hell up," Charlie shot back, turning to walk away. "We're moving out."

"Is that stuck up prick here yet?" Red asks, slowly getting up.

"No, but Hector wants you to be there while we plan our route."

"Then why didn't he come get me himself?" Red squints, running after him.

"Good question, you can ask him when we get there," Charlie replies, blowing her off.

Red huffs, Charlie was the only one who ever seemed to give Red any trouble. Most of the crew just learned to deal with Red's complaints and insults; Charlie was the only one who actually took shots back at her. The two had a hard time getting along at first, Charlie hailing from the NCR, and Red being a tribal; it was easy to see why that was.

Hector and the others weren't far; it was only a few minute walk before they made it back. The rest of the crew slowly came into vision, standing atop a ridge overlooking the sun setting over Red Rock, giving the sky an enchanting orange glow. They were all gathered around a map Hector had made in the dirt. He was now visibly armed, wearing a sniper rifle on his back along with the .45 that was still probably tucked in his coat.

"Hector and his plans," Red mumbled under her breath as they approached the group. Besides Hector there were two others. The first is a woman wearing combat, with a light machine she lays across her shoulder with one hand, and a 10 mm pistol strapped to her side. Her jet black hair is cut short and combed over to one side; the tone of her skin implying an Asian-American descent, despite her light blue eyes. She's looking down at the map she's not really paying too much attention,.

The other was a Hispanic looking man dressed in light leather armor, sitting down pretzel style with a grenade rifle grasped firmly in his hands as his muddy brown eyes locked onto Hector, watching his every move. He has a spiky brown mohawk, and the rest of his head is mostly shaved. Because of his weapon's limited versatility, he also has a fire axe strapped to his back and a 12.7mm pistol on his hip.

The woman notices Red and Charlie approaching. "Well look who finally decided to show up."

"Get off my back Tara," says Red, not even bothering to look back at her.

"Don't mind her, she's just mad cause I woke her from her beauty sleep," Charlie cracks, earning a bout of laughter from the rest of the crew.

"Fuck you guys," Red curses as she sits down near the map. She breathes heavily, and looks to Hector, "So where is this bastard anyway?"

"On his way," Hector replies, "Shouldn't be long now."

"So Hector," the man with the mohawk speaks up, "What exactly do you know about this guy?"

"He's a bigshot from New Vegas, I've met him before."

"He's a fucking snake, doing an impersonation of a man," Red swears. "That's about all you need to know about him Lyle."  
"You know this guy Red?" Tara asks, tilting her head.

"I don't need to know him," Red replies, turning to Tara, "Vegas is nothing but slimeballs and crooks."

"Sorry to hear you feel that way," comes a voice, "But that's not the Vegas I know." The crew turns to see a man approach with his hands in his coat pockets, blocking the sun with his figure, almost giving him a heavenly sparkle. His slicked back hair and classy attire gives no illusion to his identity, as he stands proudly like Vegas' white knight, his tailored checkered suit acting as his set of shining armor.

"You're late," Hector claims, standing up to face the man.

"Fashionably so," he replies, smiling broadly, "But Lady Luck? She's always on time."

**Sorry about the lack of action in this chapter, but character intro needed to be done and that seemed like a pretty perfect note to end on. **


	3. A Slight Over Reaction

Chapter 3: A Slight Over-reaction

The Next Day…

It's midday, The Hellraisers and company are on the move, trekking across the open wasteland with Benny at the head of the pack. A driven look on his face, he doesn't let the beating sun slow him down as he leads the way, the Hellraisers following his trail. Red eyed the man with suspicion, not sure what to expect.

"Here I was thinking he was going to slow us down," Charlie mumbles to Red.

"What do you think he was before New Vegas became what it is?" Red asks him seriously. "Mr. House only showed up recently and carved out the old ruin into the lively cesspit is today. Before all those classy families were nothing more than tribals."

"Even the White Gloves?"

Red chuckles at the question, shaking her head at the thought. "You don't even want to know what kinda shit they were into."

"So Benny," Hector speaks up, "Why are we after this courier anyway?"

"Because that's the job," Benny says simply, not slowing down.

"You have your own men don't you? Why don't you use them for this?" Red asks suspiciously.

"Do you always ask your clients so many questions? As long as you get paid, why do you even care a lick?"

"I just don't like being kept in the dark is all."

Benny sighs, "The guy we're after is carrying something very valuable to me, and I want it, simple enough for you broad?"

"Don't call me that," Red growls.

Benny rolls his eyes as he takes out his lighter, setting his cigarette alight. "You need to lighten up there Rosey," Red clenches her fist, growing more and more irritated.

"I wouldn't antagonize her if I were you," Tara advises, eyeing Red worryingly.

"Let me worry about me."

"Whatever, it's your funeral."

Suddenly Benny stops dead in his tracks, catching the crew off guard. Hector looks around him and sees it, a group of five armed men, the pack leader wearing combat armor, the rest wearing spiked metal, and they were headed their way.

"What is it Raiders?" Lyle asks, raising his grenade rifle.

"When was the last time you saw an entire group of raiders wearing armor like that? They're mercenaries," answers Hector, as he and everyone else equip their guns.

"How do you know they're mercs?" Tara questions, keeping her eyes on the group.

"Because I recognize the leader," he replies, studying the man at the head of the pack. A dirty faced man with a rough beard, his hair cut almost to the skin of his head. Armed with an assault rifle, he and his men are moving fast towards the Hellraisers.

"If they were going to shoot at us, they would have already," Benny says, suspicious.

"So what? They wanna talk?" Lyle exchanges looks with Tara, who only shrugs.

Red switches off the safety on her sub machine gun, an eager gleam in her eyes, "We don't have anything to talk about."

The unknown group comes within fifty feet of the crew, the leader locking eyes with Hector. "Well well, if isn't Hector and his Hellraisers," he sneers, approaching fast.

"You know this guy?" Benny asks Hector, his 9mm in his hand.

"Unfortunately."

"What a fucking surprise to see you clowns here," says the leader of the other group , now right in front of the crew.

"What do you want Norton?"

"What are you doing here?" Norton dodges the question.

"What's it to you?" Lyle shoots back.

Norton looks over the crew, "Everywhere you pricks go you fuck things up for the rest of us mercs."

"Why because we take all the jobs?" Red cracks.

Norton ignores Red, "Wherever you guys go you practically gets razed to the ground. You know how many of my employers get killed just because of your bullshit antics? You give us mercs a bad name."

"My heart is breaking," Red taunts, rolling her eyes.

Norton turns to Red now, "You think you're fucking clever? What are you his personal whore?"

Red tenses up now, eyeing Norton with a seething glare.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? Keep your fucking mouth shut," Norton turns to Hector once more, "We better not see you around here again," he turns away now, his crew following.

They don't get very far until Red starts after them. Hector exchanges looks with her as she passes him, he had seen that look many times before. Hector breathes heavily, "Shit…"

Benny takes a few steps back, knowing what's about to happen.

Norton hears footsteps behind him, and looks over his shoulder to see Red, her sub machine at her hip, pointed upwards.

Norton's eyes widen, and he raises his gun.

Red starts spraying bullets into the group, and with the round drum magazine attachment she has, she could shoot all week. The rest of the crew doesn't even join in, there's no need. Norton goes down first, taking a bullet to the jaw, shooting several bullets upwards as he slams onto the ground. The rest don't even have the chance to get a shot off before they're mowed down, each toppling over, one after another. In three seconds it's over, more a massacre than a firefight. Red doesn't stop firing, she wants to make sure none of them ever get back up.

The gun finally clicks, out of ammo. Red lifts smoking gun into the air, observing the scene. Five men lay sprawled on the ground, the dirt soaked with blood. Norton is the only one left alive, just barely, lying mangled on the ground. Red strolls over to the bleeding man, who tries to drag himself away futilely. His panicked eyes dart up to Red, who's now upon him.

"You paying attention?" Tara asks Benny, smiling. Benny looks to her, and then back to Red, unsure of how to react to what he just witnessed.

Norton looks like he's trying to say something, but he can't speak after being shot in the mouth, only spitting up blood. Red raises her gun, and brings it down hard upon the man's head. The rest of the Hellraisers watch as Red maliciously beats Norton to death. Charlie looks on with true fascination, "That ferocity, that's something you just can't teach."

"What you think she'd make a good Ranger?" Lyle asks, turning his attention away from the scene.

"No, she's too fucking crazy. If she wasn't doing this she'd be a raider, no doubt."

"Jeez, does she do this often?" Benny asks, turning away.

"You see that dress she has? She didn't get a red one to go with her name, she got it so the blood wouldn't stain it," Tara replies, not taking her eyes off Red.

Red still has not relented, just savagely smashing his head in, even though Norton died after the first few blows. She brings the gun up once more, but a hand catches her wrist. She whips around to see Hector. "I think he's dead Rose," She just looks at him for a moment, his cool and collected eyes calming her down. She then breaks free from his grasp. Breathing hard, she steps away from the scene, wiping the blood off her face with her hand as she trudges back to the group. She locks eyes with Benny, her face saying it all as she passes him by.

"Way to take out the competition," Lyle grins.

Red cracks a smile at that, that wasn't even on her mind.

Hector looks over the bloodbath before him, specifically at the now horribly disfigured Norton. Benny approaches from behind, pacing by him and past the dead bodies, "Let's not hang around, I don't want to be here when the cazadores show up."


	4. The Birth of Red Rose

**I decided I should not go any further without explaining some of Rose's origins, so here's part of it. **

Chapter 4: The Birth of Red Rose: Part 1

2 years earlier…

Hector's past is not something he likes to talk about, Red was the only person he had told, but not the only one who knew. Hector had been an Omerta, and a significantly high ranking lieutenant at that. Nero and Big Sal, however, feared him and his popularity with the family, and as a result the previously loyal Hector was framed for conspiring to form a coup to take down the bosses. After just barely escaping Vegas with his life, he now has nowhere to go. If he steps back in the Strip he'll be dead in a minute flat, and he has no friends in this unforgiving wasteland.

The desperate Hector, still dressed in his tattered Omerta suit, is making his way through the West Vegas ruins. He knew of the dangerous fiends that infested that territory, but he didn't have a choice if he wanted to get through. He takes short and quick steps, hunched over with his hands shoved in his coat pockets as he wanders aimlessly through the abandoned neighborhood. He's lost in a sea of thoughts, the most important one to him being revenge. Big Sal and Nero had humiliated him, taken everything from him, even though he had served them loyally. "I swear, if I ever see either of those backstabbing bastards again I'll make them suffer the worst fate," he mumbles to himself, not paying attention to where he's going. "I'll burn that fucking casino down in front of them for what they've done to me."

He stops now, looking around at his surroundings. He's on a lower road, surrounded by two high walls and a bridge over head a good hundred feet away. He sighs heavily and continues walking. "Alright Hector, you've been here before. You built yourself up once, you can do it again. If I want to stay alive here I'll need some caps, but I can't exactly join any crew, once they learn who I am they'll sell me out to the Omertas for sure. I'll have to start my own outfit, and make sure none of them ever betray me." He stays silent for a while before speaking again, "Now, where in the hell should I start?"

As if on cue, a fiend armed with a machete drops from above to his level, landing only a few meters next to him. She lands perfectly, bending her knees and rolling the instant she hits the ground. Hector has barely enough time to react as the woman charges him like a pro. He manages to dodge the blow, and kicks the woman way. He draws his switchblade, his only weapon for he ran out of ammo some time ago. The female fiend recovers, and holds the machete at her side, studying Hector for an opening. They began to circle around each other, neither one wanting to make the first move. Hector had dealt with fiends before, but never had he encountered one who wasn't some flailing berserker who got their hands on a weapon. This woman was trained, she knew what she was doing with that thing.

Finally the fiend charges again, coming at Hector hard and fast. Hector takes a quick swipe at her face, trying to catch her off guard. The fiend sees it coming though, ducking and slashing Hector's side before jumping away to avoid a counter attack. Blood begins to seep through his coat jacket, the wound isn't deep but it sure hurts like hell. His attacker looks like a pathetic, junkie mess, but she fought better than most legionnaires he had seen. A rabid dog with cunning and technique, he had never seen anything like it.

"What's the matter chickenshit? You scared?" The woman grins through dirty, bacteria infested teeth. Hector doesn't reply, he's breathing heavily, trying to get a read on her.

The woman attacks again, this time Hector steps to the side and tries to get an angle on her. When Hector moves and the fiend's attack catches nothing but air, she does not jump back to avoid Hector's blade, instead she follows through, uses the force to turn and lift her foot at the same time, and kicks Hector straight in the chest as he's about to strike. Hector fumbles back, caught off guard, but the woman's not done. She advances on him and slices at his head, taking advantage of his lost balance. Hector doubles back and manages to avoid the brunt of the blow, so instead of losing his head Hector instead receives a nasty slash across his face. Hector, desperate now, takes a wild slash at the fiend. The woman jumps back out of his range, and now they're staring each other down once more.

Hector's no fool, he knows he's no match for her in hand to hand combat, and there's nothing around him he can use, and he has nowhere to go. Hector, for some reason actually smiles. _"I never thought I'd go out like this…"_

The fiend squints at Hector, "I'll wipe that grin off your face!" she goes in for the kill, one last strike. Then a burst of bullets soar in from overhead, two of them striking the fiend in the back. She screeches in pain and topples over, laying still. Hector stares at his fallen assailant for a moment, and then his eyes shift up to see his rescuer. A female NCR trooper, a service rifle gripped firmly in her hands. She hops over the guardrail above and lands on Hector's level, and approaches him quickly.

"Are you crazy? What kind of fool wanders through fiend territory without a gun?" the trooper demands.

"It's a long story I'd rather not get into," replies Hector.

"Yeah, I bet, well take this," she grabs the pistol at her side and hands it to Hector. "I'm escorting you back to the fort before you get killed out here. You know how to use that thing right?"

"Oh, I've had plenty of experience," Hector assures her, making sure the gun is loaded.

"Good, let's hope your shooting's better than your knife fighting," she chuckled, turning to leave. Hector huffs at the remark, but starts to follow.

"Uhhhhhh…."

Hector looks to the source of the moan, to see the female fiend still alive, however, bleeding quite badly. He looks down upon the fiend, analyzing her. This crazy fiend had fought like nothing he had ever seen before, and she was wasting her talents being a petty raider, shooting herself up with addictive chems all day. The NCR trooper realizes he's not following, and then spots the barely moving fiend.

"Jeez, these fiends are always such a pain to take down, probably 'cause of all those chems," she sighs, approaching the badly injured raider. Suddenly, Hector steps in front of the trooper, blocking her path.

"Now hold on a moment, she's incapacitated, she can't hurt anyone in her state. Perhaps we should take her with us to the base, maybe you can help her."

The trooper looks at him, bewildered, and then shakes her head, "You must be a very kind and caring soul to think that way about the woman who just tried to gut you, but unfortunately these raiders are far beyond help. Whatever humanity they had is gone, now they're not much more than rabid, drug infused monsters. I'm sorry, but if you really want to help her, you'll let me put her out of her misery."

Hector breaks eye contact with the trooper, looking off to the side, he then turns to look at the dying fiend. She's breathing hard, clutching her wound in agony. Her injuries are serious, but she could be saved if treated soon. He takes a deep breath, and looks back to the trooper. "You're certain we can't help her?"

"Well it's possible to break the addiction, but the drugs have already taken a huge toll on her mind. She'll probably always be a violent psychopath, I doubt anything is ever going to change that."

Hector smiles at the news, "Perfect."

The trooper tilts her head in confusion, "Excuse me?"

Without another word, Hector raises his pistol and shoots the trooper through the throat. A mist of blood spurts from her neck as the trooper stumbles back and falls, landing hard on the concrete road below her. Hector than advances quickly on her to finish the job, but sees there is no need. The bullet pierced the soldier's spine, she was dead before she hit the ground. A pool of blood begins to gather as it spills out of her neck, her cold, blank eyes staring forward into the sky. Hector kneels down, and relieves her of her service rifle and any ammo she has. After he's looted her, he slings the rifle around his back with the leather strap tied around it.

Hector now steps in front of the fiend, holding in his hand the trooper's very own pistol used to murder her in cold blood. The raider has no words, she finds herself totally speechless before her looming savior. This man had thanked the friendly soldier who rescued him by sacrificing her to save the life of a murdering, cold blooded psychopath who had just tried to gut him only a moment ago.

Enduring the pain, she manages to sit up, eyeing Hector suspiciously, "Why?" she finally asks. Hector gives her a calm, sly smile. "Because you're just what I need." He then whips her across the skull with the pistol, knocking her unconscious.


End file.
